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KEADiNGS 



FROM COWPER. 



NEV\^ YORK : 
P H I L L ! i-T U N T. f 

( ■ KN ( ■ I 

V 

\A' A I. [M : N '3 



Home College Series ' will contain one hundred short pap«ra on 
ide range of subjects — biographical, historical, scientific, literary, dome 
tic, political, and religious. Indeed, the religious tone will characterize all 
of them. They are written for every body — for all whose leisure is limited, 
but who desiro to use the minutes for the enrichment of life. 

These papers contain seeds from the best gardens in all tiie wunu ui 
human knowledge, and if dropped wisely into good soil, will bring forth 
harvests of beauty and value. 

They are for the young — especially for young people (and older people 
too) who are out of the schools, who are full of "business" and "carc> 
who are in danger of reading nothing, or of reading a sensational literature 
that is worse tlian nothing. 

One of these papers a week read over and over, thought and talked about 
at "odd times," will give in one year a vast fund of information, an intel- 
lectual quickening, worth even more than the mere knowledge acquired, a 
tiiste for solid reading, many hours of simple and wholesome pleasure, and 
ability to talk intelligently and helpfully to one's friends. 

Pastors may organize '* Home College " classes, or " Lyceum Reading 
Unions," or "Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circles," and help the 
yoiuig people to read ai%i think and talk and live to worthier purpose. 

A young man may have his own little " college " all by himself, read this 
series of tracts one after the other, (there will soon be one hundred of them 
ready,) examine Jiimself on them by tb.e " Thought-Outline to Help the Mem- 
ory," and thivs gain knowledge, and, what is better, a love of knowledge. 

And what a young man may do in this respect, a young woman, and bot'^ 

old men and old Avomen, may do. 

J. H, Vincent, 

New Yokk> Jan.. 18^3. 



Copyright, 1888, by Phillips & Hunt, New York. 



Point Clollcge ^trus. flumbtr Jfiftg-ttxro. 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. 

TuE Gift of my Cousin, Ann Boduam. 

that those lips had language 1 Life has passed 
With me but roughly since I heard tliee last. 
Those lips are thine, — thy own sweet smile I see, 
The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
" Grieve not, my child; chase all thy fears away I " 
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes 
(Blest be the art that can immortalize, — 
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim 
To quench it) here shines on me still the same. 
Faitliful remembrancer of one so dear, 

welcome guest, though unexpected here 1 
"Who bidst me honor with an artless song, 
Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 

1 will obey, — not willingly alone, 

But gladly, as the precept were her own ; 
And. while that face renews my filial grief, 
Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, — 
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, 
A momentary dream, that thou art she. 

My mother I when I learned that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, — 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? 
Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss ; 
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
Ah ! that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes. 
I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, 
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, 
And, turning from my nursery window, drew 
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu I 



READINGS FROM GOWPEB. 



But was it. such ? — It was. — Where thou art gone 

Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 

May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 

The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! 

Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, 

Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 

What ardently I wished I long believed, 

And, disappointed still, was still deceived. 

By expectation every day beguiled, 

Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. 

Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 

Till, all my stock of infant sorrows spent, 

I learned at last submission to my lot; 

But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 

Where once we dwelt our name is lieard no more, 
Children not thine have trod my nursery tioor; 
And where the gardener Robin, day by day, 
Drew me to school along the public way, — 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped 
In scarlet mantle warm and velvet cap, — 
'Tis now become a history little known 
That once we called the pastoral house our own. 
Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, 
That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, 
Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced 
A thousand other themes less deeply traced. 
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, 
That thou mightst know me safely laid; 
Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,— 
The biscuit, or confectionery plum ; 
The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed 
By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed : 
All this, and more endearing still than all, 
Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, — 
Ne'er rougliened by those cataracts and breaks 
That humor interposed too often makes; 
All this still legible in memory's page, 
And still to be so to my latest age, 
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 
Such honors to thee as my numbers may, — 
Perhaps a frail memorial, bur, sincere, — 
Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here. 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours 
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, — 
The violet, the pink, Jhe jessamine, — 
I pricked them into paper with a pin, ^ 

(And thou wast liappier than myself the while, 
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile,) 
Could those few pleasant days again appear, 
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? 
I would not trust my heart — the dear delight 
Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — 
But no, — what here we call our life is such, 
So little to be loved, and thou so much, 
That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 

Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast 
(The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed) 
Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, 
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile; 
There sits quiescent on the floods that show 
Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
While airs impregnated with incense play 
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; 
So thou, with sails how swift 1 hast readied the shore 
" Where tempests never beat nor billows roar ;" 
And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
Of life long since has anchored by thy side. 
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
Always from port withheld, always distressed, — 
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed, 
Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost, 
And day by day some currents thwarting force 
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. 
"S et the thought, that thou art safe, and he I 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise, — 
The son of parents passed into the skies. 
And now, farewell! — Time unrevoked has run 
His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. 
By Contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again ; 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



To have renewed the joys that once were mine, 
■Without the siu of violating thine; 
And, while the wings of f^ncy still are free, 
And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
Time lias but half succeeded in his theft, — 
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left. 



WINTER. 

From "TnB Winter Morning Walk." 

T'is morning ; " and the sun, with ruddy orb 
Ascending, fires the horizon;" while the clouds, 
That crowd away before the driving wind. 
More ardent as the disk emerges more, 
Resemble most some city in a blaze. 
Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray 
Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale. 
And, tinging all with his own rosy hue. 
From every herb and every spiry blade 
Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field. 
Mine, spindling into longitude immense. 
In spite of gravity and sage remark, 
That I myself am but a fleeting siiade, 
Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance 
I view the muscular proportioned limb 
Transformed to a lean shank. The shapeless pair, 
As they deigned to mock me, at my side 
Take step for step ; and as I near approach 
The cottage, walk along the plastered wall. 
Preposterous sight ! the legs without the man. 
The verdure of the plain lies buried deep 
Beneath the dazzling deluge ; and the bents, 
And coarser grass, upspearing o'er the rest, 
Of late unsightly and utiseen, now shine 
Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad. 
And, fledged with icy feathers, nod superb. 
Tlie cattle mourn in corners, where the fence 
Screens them, and seem lialf petrified to sleep 
In uurecumbent sadness. There they wait 
Their wonted fodder; not, like hungering man, 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



Fretful if unsiipplied; but silent, meek, 
And patient of the slow-paced swain's delay. 
He from the stack carves out the accustomed load, 
Deep plunging, and again deep plunging ofc, 
His broad keen knife into the solid mass : 
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands, 
With such undeviating and even force 
He severs it away : no needless care. 
Lest storms should overset the leaning pile 
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight. 
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcerned 
The cheerful haunts of men, to wield the ax 
And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear, 
From morn to eve his solitary task. 
Shaggy and lean and shrewd, witli pointed ears 
And tail cropped short, half lurcher and half cur, 
His dog attends him. Close behind his heel 
Now creeps he slow ; and now, with many a frisk 
Wide scampering, snatches up the drifted snow 
With ivory teeth, or plows it with his snout ; 
Tiien shakes his powdered coat, and barks for joy. 

******* 
Now from the roost, or from the neighboring pale, 
Where, diligent to catch the first faint gleam 
Of smiling day, they gossiped side by side, 
Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call 
The feathered tribes domestic. Half on wing, 
And half on foot, they brush the fleecy flood, 
Conscious and fearful of too deep a plunge. 
The sparrows peep, and quit the sheltering eaves, 
To seize the fair occasion ; well they eye 
The scattered grain, and thievishly resolved 
To escape the impending famine, often scared 
As oft return, a pert voracious kind. 
Clean riddance quickly made, one only care 
Remains to each, the search of sunny nook, 
Or shed impervious to the blast. Resigned 
To sad necessity, the cock foregoes 
His wonted strut; and, wading at tlieir head 
With well-considered steps, seems to resent 
His altered gait and stateliness retrenched. 
How find the myriads, that in summer cheer 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



The hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs, 

Due sustenance, or where subsist they now ? 

Earth yields them naught ; the imprisoned worm is saj 

Beneath the frozen clod ; all seeds of herbs 

Lie covered close; and berry-bearing thorns. 

That feed the thrush, (whatever some suppose,) 

Afford the smaller minstrels no supply. 

The long-protracted rigor of the year 

Thins all their numerous flocks. In chinks and holes 

Ten thousand seek an unmolested end, 

As instinct prompts ; self-buried ere they die. 



THE FREEMAN. 

From " The Winter Morning Walk." 

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain 
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, 
Can wind around him, but he casts it off 
With as much ease as Samson his green withes. 
He looks abroad into the varied field 
Of Nature ; and though poor, perhaps, compared 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy 
With a propriety that none can feel, 
But who, with filial confidence inspired, 
Can hft to heaven an unpresumptuous eye. 
And smiling say, " My Father made them all!" 
Are they not his by a peculiar right, 
And by an emphasis of interest his. 
Whose eyes they fill with tears qf holy joy, 
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind 
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love 
That planned, and built, and stills upholds a world 
So clothed with beauty for rebellious man? 
Yes — ye may fill your garners, ye that reap 
The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good 
In senseless riot ; but ye will not find. 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



In feast, or in the chase, in song or dance, 
A liberty like his who, iinimpeached 
Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong, 
Appropriates nature as his Father's work, 
And has a richer use of yours than you. 
He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth 
Of no mean city; planned or ere the hills 
Were built, the fountains opened, or the sea 
With all its roaring multitude of waves. 
His freedom is the same in every state ; 
And no conditiou of this changeful life, 
So manifold in cares, whose every day 
Bring its own evil with it, makes it less ; 
For he has wings that neither sickness, pain, 
Nor penury can cripple or confine. 
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there 
With ease, and is at large. The oppressor holds 
His body bound; but knows not what a range 
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain; 
And that to bind him is a vain attempt, 
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. 



THE HAPPY MAN. 

From " The Winter Walk at Noon." 

He is the happy man whose life even now 
Shows somewhat of the happier life to come ; 
Who, doomed to an obscure but tranquil state, 
Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose, 
Would make his fate his choice ; whom peace, the fruit 
Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, 
Prepare for happiness ; bespeak him one 
Content indeed to sojourn while he must 
Below the skies, but having there his home. 
The world o'erlooks him in her busy search 
Of objects, more illustrious in her view; 
And, occupied as earnestly as she, 
Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks tlie world. 
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not; 
He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain. 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



He cannot skim the ground like summer birds 

Pursuing gilded flies : and such he deems 

Her honors, her emoluments, her joys. 

Therefore in contemplation is his bliss, 

Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from earth 

She makes familiar with a heaven unseen, 

And shows him glories yet to be revealed. — 

Not slothful he, though seeming unemployed. 

And censured oft as useless. Stillest streams 

Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 

That flutters least is longest on the wing. 



HUMANITY. 

From " The Winter "Walk at Noon." 

I would not enter on my list of friends 

(Though graced willi polished manners and fine 

Yet wanting sensibility) the man 

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 

An inadvertent step may crush the snail 

That crawls at evening in the public path ; 

But he that has humanity, forewarned, 

Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 

The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 

And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 

A visitor unwelcome, into scenes 

Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove. 

The chamber, or refectory, may die : 

A necessary act incurs no blame. 

Not so when, held within their proper bounds, 

And guiltless of offense, they range the air, 

Or take their pastime in tlie spacious field : 

There they are privileged ; and lie that hunts 

Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong. 

Disturbs the economj^ ot Nature's realm, 

Who, when she formed, designed them an abode. 

The sum is this : If man's convenience, health, 

Or safety interfere, his rights and claims 

Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 

Else they are all — the meanest things that are — 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 



As free to live, and U> enjoy that life, 
As God was free to form tliem at the first, 
Wlio in his sovereign wisdom made them all. 
Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
To love it too. 



CONTRADICTION. 

From " CONVEKSATION." 

Te powers who rule the tongue, if such there are, 
And make colloquial l)appiness your care, 
Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate, 
A duel in the form of a debate. 
The clash of arguments and jar of words, 
"Worse than the mortal blunt of rival swords, 
Decide no question with their tedious length, 
For opposition gives opinion strength. 
Divert the champions prodigal of breath. 
And put the peaceably disposed to death, 

thwart me not, Sir Soph, at every turn, 
Nor carp at every flaw you may discern ; 
Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue, 

1 am not surely always in the wrong; 
'Tis hard if all is false that I advance, 

A fool must now and then be right by chance. 

Not that all freedom of dissent I blame ; 

No, — there I grant the privilege I claim. 

A disputable point is no man's ground; 

Kove where you please, 'tis common all around. 

Discourse may want an animated — No, 

To brush the surface, and to make it flow ; 

But still remember, if you mean to please, 

To press your point with modesty and ease. 

The mark at which my juster aim I take, 

Is contradiction for its own dear sake. 

Let your opinion at whatever pitch. 

Knots and impediments make something hitch ; 

Adopt his own, 'tis equally in vain, 

Your thread of argument is snatched again ; 

The wrangler, rather than accord with you, 

Will judge himself deceived, and prove it too. 



10 READINGS FROM COWPER. 

Vociferated logic kills me quite, 

A noisy man is always in the right. 

I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair, 

Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare, 

And, when I hope his blunders are all out, 

Reply discreetly, " To be sure — no doubt I " 



AFFECTATION. 

From "The Time-Pibcb." 

In man or woman, but far most in man, 
And most of all in man that ministers 
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe 
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn ; 
Object of my implacable disgust. 
"What! — will a man play tricks, will he indulge 
A silly fond conceit of his fair form, 
And just proportion, fashionable mien. 
And pretty face, in presence of his God ? 
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes. 
As with the diamond on his lily hand, 
And play his brilliant parts before mine eyes, 
When I am hungry for the bread of life ? 
He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames 
His noble office, and, instead of truth, 
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock I 
Therefore, avaunt all attitude, and stare, 
And start theatric, practiced at ihe glass I 
I seek divine simplicity in him 
Who handles things divine ; and all besides, 
Though learned with labor, and though much admired 
By curious eyes and judgments ill-informed, 
To me is odious as the nasal twang 
Heard at conventicle, where worthy men. 
Misled by custom, strain celestial themes 
Through the pressed nostril, spectacle-bestrid. 



HEADINGS FROM COWPER. n 

SLAVERY. 

From "Tub Time- Piece.'" 

for a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
Some boundless contiguity of shade, 
"Where rumor of oppression and deceit, 
Of unsuccessful or successful war, 

Might never reach me more 1 My ear is pained, 
My soul is sick with every day's report 
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled. 
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; 
It does not feel for man ; the natural bond 
Of brotherliood is severed as the flax 
That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
Not colored like liis own ; and having power 
To enforce tlie wrong, for such a worthy cause 
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed 
Make enemies of nations, who had else 
Like kindred drops been mingled iuto one. 
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; 
And, worse than all. and most to be deplored 
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
"With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart, 
"Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 
Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, 
And having human feelings, does not blush. 
And hang his head, to think himself a man ? 

1 would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 

And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews bought and sold have ever earned. 
No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
Just estimation prized above all price, 
I had much rather be myself the slave, 
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
"We have no slaves at home : — Then why abroad ? 
And they tliemselves once ferried o'er the wave 
That parts us are emancipate and loosed. 



12 READINGS FROM COWPER. 

Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs 
Eeceive our air, that moment \hej are free ; 
They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then, 
And let it circulate through every vein 
Of all your empire ; that where Britain's power 
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. 



MY COUNTRY. 

From •' The Timk-Pieob." 

England, with all thy faults, I love thee still — 
My country ! and, while yet a nook is left 
Where English minds and manners may be found, 
Shall be constrained to love thee. Though thy clime 
Be tickle, and thy year most part deformed 
With dripping rains, or withered by a frost, 
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, 
And fields without a flower, for warmer France, 
With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves 
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers. 
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime 
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire 
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : 
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake 
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart 
As any thunderer there. And I can feel 
Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain 
Frown at effeminates, whose very looks 
Reflect dishonor on the land I love. 
How in the name of soldiership and sense, 
Should England prosper, when such things, as smootli 
And tender as a girl, all essenced o'er 
With odors, and as profligate as sweet ; 
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath. 
And love when they should fight ; when such as these 
Presume to lay their liand upon the ark 
Of her magnificent and awful cause? 
Time was when it was praise and boast enough 
In every clime, and travel where we might, 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 13 

That we were born her cliildren. Praise enough 
To fill the ambition of a private man, 
That Chatham's language was liis mother tongue, 
And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own. 



THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM. 

A nightingale, that all day long 
Had cheered the village with his song, 
Nor yet at eve his note suspended, 
Nor yet when even-tide was ended. 
Began to feel — as well he might — 
The keen demands of appetite ; 
"When, looking eagerly around, 
He spied far off upon the ground, 
A something sliiniiig in the dark. 
And knew tiie glow-worm by his spark ; 
So, stooping down from hawthorn top, 
He thought to put him in his crop. 
The worm, aw;ire of his intent, 
Harangued him thus, quite eloquent: 
" Did you admire my lamp ? " quoth he, 
"As much as I your minstrelsy; 
You would abhor to do nie wrong, 
As much as I to spoil your song; 
For 'twas the self-same Power Divine 
Tauglit you to sing, and me to shine ; 
That you with music, I with light. 
Might beautify and cheer the night." 
The songster heard his short oration, 
And, warbling out his approbation, 
Keleased him, as my story tells, 
And found a supper somewhere else. 



VERSES 

Supposed to have been written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary abode In the 
Island of Juan Fernandez. 

I am monarcli of all I survey. 

My right there is none to dispute ; 
From the center all round to the sea 

I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 



14 READINGS FROM COWPER. 

0, Solitude ! where are thy charms 
That sages have seen in thy face ? 

Better dwell in the midst of alarms 
Than reign in this horrible place. 

I am out of humanity's reach, 

I must finish my journey alone, 
Never hear the sweet music of speech, — 

I start at the sound of my own. 
Tlie beasts that roam over the plain 

My form with indifference see ; 
They are so unacquainted with man, 

Tlieir tameness is shocking to me. 

Society, friendship, and love. 

Divinely bestowed upon man ! 
0, had I the wings of a dove, 

How .soon would I taste you again 1 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the ways of religion and truth. 
Might learn from the wisdom of age. 

And be cheered by the sallies of youth. 

Religion ! wliat treasure untold 

Resides in that heavenly word ! — 
More precious than silver and gold, 

Of all that this earth can afford ; 
But the sound of the church-going bell 

These valleys and rocks never heard, 
Never sighed at the soiuid of a knell. 

Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared. 

Te winds tliat have made me your sport, 

Convey to this desolate shore 
Some cordial endearing report 

Of a land I shall visit no more ! 
My friends — do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me ? 
tell me I yet have a friend. 

Though a friend I am never to see. 

How fleet is a glance of the mind! 

Compared with the speed of its flight, 
The tempest itself lags behind, 

And the swift-winged arrows of light. 



READINGS FROM COWPER. 15 

When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to be there ; 
Bnt, alasl recollection at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, 

The beast is laid down in his lair ; 
Even here is a season of rest, 

And I to my cabin repair. 
There's mercy in every place, 

And mercy, encoiiraging thought 1 
Gives even affliction a grace, 

And reconciles man to his lot. 



GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY. 

God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never-failing skill. 
He treasures up his bright designs, 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take: 
The clouds ye so much dread 

Are big with mercy, and shall break 
In blessings on your bead. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 

But trust him for his grace ; 
Behind a frowning providence 

He hides a smiling face. 

His purposes will ripen fast. 

Unfolding every hour : 
The bud may have a bitter taste, 

But sweet will be the flower. 



16 READINOS FROM COWPER. 



Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
And scan liis work in vain : 

God is his own interpreter, 
And he will make it plain. 



NOTES. 



" Cowper was six years old when his mother died. More than fifty years 
after the day on which a sad little face, looking from the nursery window, 
had seen a dark hoarse moving slowly from the door, an old man, smitten 
with incurable madness, but just then enjoying a brief lucid interval, bent 
over a picture, and saw the never-forgotten image of that kindest earthly 
friend from whom he had been so long severed, but whom he was soon to 
join in the sorrowless land. There are no more touching and beautiful lines 
in English poetry or prose than Cowper's verses to his ' Mother's Picture.' " 

"No great success rewarded the first installments of Cowper's poetic 
toil; but at least two men, whose good opinion was worth more than gold, 
saw real merit in him. Johnson and Franklin recognized in the recluse of 
fifty a true and eminent poet." 

" To Lady Austen, Cowper owed the origin of his greatest work, ' The 
Task.' She asked him to write some blank verse, and playfully gave him 
'The Sofa' as a subject. Begirning a poem on this homely theme, he pro- 
duced six books of * The Task,' which took its name from the circumstances 
of its origin." 

" The second book, ' The Time-piece,' opens with a just and powerful de- 
nunciation of slavery, and proceeds to disclose the blessings and the need 
of peace among the nations. A noble apostrophe to England, and a 
brilliantly sarcastic picture of a fashionable preacher, are among the more 
striking passages of this book. Then comes ' The Garden,' ' The Winter 
Evening,' 'The Winter Morning Walk,' and 'The Winter Walk at Noon,' 
full of exquisite description and deep kindliness." 

"One of his very best was a little poem, 'The Castaway,' descriptive of 
a sailor's death, who had been waslied overboard in the mid- Atlantic. It 
was the last sad wail of his noble lyre. Its concluding words were : 

" ' We perished, each alone : 
But I beneath a i-ougher sea, 
And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.' " 






^; irzi.^\.XJT.i^.i:jQ 



T?E ::?^T-o3 O c.. 



>. 1. Biblical Exploration. A C'Ui- i 
.iinsed Manual on How to Study the 
P.ible. By J. H. Vincent, D.D. Full 
md rich 10 

> 2. Studies of the Stars. A Pocket 
Guide to the Science of Astronomy. 

By H. W. Warren, D.D 10 

> 3. Bible Studies for Little People. 

!:y Rev. B. T, Vincent 10 

4. English History. By J. H. V 
ent, D.D 

:^o. 5. Greek History. By J. H. 
cent, D.D 

No, 6. Greeic Literatare. By A 

Vail, D.D 20 

'. 7. Memorial Days of the Chautau- 
|iia Literary and Scientiflc Circle — lo 
.8. What Noted Men Think of the 
Bible, By L. T. Townsend, D.D..... 10 
. 9. William Cullen Bryant 10 

10. What is Education? By Wm. 
F.Phelps, A.M 10 

11. Socrates. By Prof. W. P. Phelps, 

AM 10 

.. 12. Pestalozzi. By Prof. W. P. 
riielps, A.M 10 

13. Anglo-Saxon. By Prof. Albert 

<. Coolt... 20 

' 14. Horace Mann. By Prof. Wra. 

F. Pheliw. A.M in 

No. 15. Proebel. By Prof. Wm 

Phelps, A.M 

No. 16. Roman History. By 

cent. D.D 

"' 17. Roger Ascham and John Sturm. 
ilimiHes of Education in the Six- 
fjonth Century. By Prof. Wm. P. 

Plielps, A.M 10 

18. Clirislian Evidences. By J. H. 



No. 19. The Book of Books. By .1. M. 

Freeman, D.D lo 

No. 20. The Chautauqua IT»'"i i'""i- 

By J. H. Vincent, D.D... 
No. 21. American History 

Hurlbut, A.M 

No. 22. Biblic-il Bio 

H. Wythe, A.M.. .M.i) 
No. 23. English Literatuv 

J. H. Gilmore 

\o. 24. Canadian History 

L. Hughes 

■ u. 25. Self-Education. l;y Jo-.et-l» Al- 

den, D.D., LL.D 10 

No. 26. The Tabernacle. By Rev. John 

C.Hill 10 

No. 27. Readings from Ancient C!3==i''- i" 
No. 23. Manners aud Custom.^ uf 

Times. By J. M. Freeman, D.i ' 
No. 29. Man's Antiquity and Language. 

ByM. 8. Terry, D.D ' 

No. 30. The World of Missions. 

Henry K. Carroll 

No. 31. What Noted Men Thii 

Christ. By L, T. Townsend, D.D. ... l 'J 
No. 32. A Brief Outline of the History 

of Art. By Miss -lulia B. De Forest. . 10 
No. 33. Elihu Burritt: "The Learned 

Blacksmith." By Charles Norili 
No. 34. Asiatic History: China, ' 

•Tapan. By Rev. ^v.- i ii.^f <: 

(J. 35. Outlines ol 

By J. H. Vincent. I 

0. 36. Assembly Pi 

J. H. Vincent. D.D 
N... .■,7. imal Qutli;- 

.1. II, 
No. ;i^. i... ^..u or Christ. Bv ■ 

r. L. Hurlbut, M.A 10 

\m. ■'.0 The ?iuulay-«rli ■ • \'ur;tial 



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Thomas Carlylc ' ' .niel Wisc,l3Q. 

D.D. j 

William Wordsworth, Hv Daniel Uo. 

Wise, D.I). ' 1 41. 

Egypt. Hy J. 1, Bo.swell. 42. 

Henry Wordsworth Longfellow. 43. 

IV Daniel Wise, D.D. 44. 

Rome. }3y f. I. Boswell. 45. 

Enfifland. By ]. I. Boswell. 46. 

The Sun. By C. M. Westlake, M.S. 47. 
Washington Irving. By D.-\niel Wise, 

D.D. 48. 

Political Economy, By G. M. Steele, 

D.D. 49. 

Art in Egypt. By Edward A. Rand. 
Greece. By J. I. Boswell. 50. 

Christ as a "Teacher. By Bishop E. 

Thomson. ;5i. 

George Herbert. By Daniel Wise, 52. 

D.D. ,53- 

Daniel the Uncompromising Young 1 54. 

Man. By C. H. Payne, D.D. 155. 

The Moon. By C. M. Westlake, M.S. 156. 
The Rain. By Miss Carrie E. Den- j 57. 



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By 



nen. 
Joseph Addison. 

D.D. 
Edmund Spenser 

D.D. 
, China and Japan. 
The Planets. By 

.M.S. 
, William Hickling Prescott. B 

Daniel Wise, D.D. 60. 

22. Wise Sayings of the Common 

Folk. 67. 

23. William Shakespeare. By Daniel t'.S. 

■ Wive, h .69. 

24. Geometry 

25. The Star.s ' ^I. Westlake, M.S. 70. 

26. John Miitou. iiy Daniel W'l ' ■ > 

27. Penmanship, i. 

28. Housekeeper's Guide. 

29. Themistocles and Pericles. (From 72. 

Plutarch.) 

30. Alexander. (I'Von l''\itarch.) 

31. Coriolanus and Mc .vinius. 

Plutarch.) 
^2. Demosthenes and Alcibiades. 
Phitarch.) 
. The Gracchi. (From Plutatcl.,) 



Daniel Wise, 1 59. 
!6o. 
By Daniel Wise, 1 61. 

162. 

By J. I. Boswell. 63. 
C. M. Westlake. 64. 

65. 



(From ; 

74- 
{From 75. 

76. 

Caesar and Cicero. (From Plutarch.) {78. 

35. Palestine. By J. I. Boswell. 170. 

36. Readings from William Words- i 80. 

worth. 8i. 

37. The Watch and the Clock. By Al- 82, 

fred I'avlor. 183. 

3S. A Set of Tools. By Alfred Taylor. I 



Diamonds and other Precious 

Stones. By Alfred Taylor. 
Memory Practice. 
Gold and Silver. By Alfred Taylor. 
Meteors. By C. M. Westlake, M.S 
Aerolites. By C. M. Westlake, M.S. 
France. By J. I. Boswell. 
Euphrates Valley. By J. I. Boswell. 
United States. By J.I." llcswell. 
The Ocean. By Miss Canie R. Den- 

ncn. 
Two Weeks in the Yosemite and 

Vicinity. By J. M. Buckley, D.D. 
Keep GQ,od Company. By Samuel 

Smiles. 
Ten Days in Switzerland. Bv II. B. 

Ridgaway, D.D. 
Art in the Far East. By 1 
Readings from Cowper. 
Plant Life. By Mrs. V, ( 
Words. By Mrs. V. C. Pli 
Readings from Oliver Gobi 
Art in Greece. Part 1. 
Art in Italy. Part I. 
Art in Germany. 
Art in France. 
Art in England. 
Art in America. 
Readings from Tennyson. 
Readings from Milton. Part I. 
Thoinas Chalmers. By Daniel Wi^e, 

D.D. 
Rufus Choate. 
The Temperance Movement versus 

The Liquor System. 
Germany. By J. I. Boswell. 
Readings from Milton. Part II. 
Reading and Readers. P.y H. C. 

F;irrar, A.B. 
The Cary Sisters. By Miss Jennie I\I. 

Bingham. 
A Few Facts about Chemistry, l'.\ 

Mrs. V. C. Phoebus. 
A Few Facts about Geology. By 

Mrs. V. r. PIkcV.us. 
A Few Facts about Zoology. Bv 

Mrs. V. C PhcEbus. 
Circle (The) of Sciences. 
Daniel Webster. By Dr. ' 
The World of Science. 
Comets. Bv C. M. We^tlal 
Art in Greece. Part II. 
Art in Italy. Part 11. 
Art in Land of Sarifcens. 
Art in Northern Europe. I ' 
Art in Northern Europe. I'.nt I 1 
Art in Western Asia. Bv K ( 

Rand. 



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